


Private Show

by Linsky



Series: Like You Have a Secret [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Dirty Talk, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 07:10:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12954021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linsky/pseuds/Linsky
Summary: “I just don’t get what the appeal is,” Pat says.“Oh, you don’t, do you?” Jonny asks, leaning in closer, breath skating over her ear.





	Private Show

**Author's Note:**

> A bit of porny nonsense I wrote when, as usual, I should have been doing other things. Warning for tipsy sex and some slightly weird talk about sexual orientations.
> 
> [Tumblr](https://linskywords.tumblr.com/)!

It’s way less scary, dealing with the media and shit after everyone knows Pat’s a girl. She doesn’t have to worry about being outed if she says something dumb. She does have to worry about them finding out about her banging her captain, but that’s a minor inconvenience.

“Oh, Sharpy, definitely,” she says when they ask her which guy on the team is hottest. “I mean, for one thing, do you know what he’d do to me if I didn’t say him? There would be tears, man. Tears.” Which gets them laughing and off her back, and has the added benefit of getting Sharpy back for the glitter-in-the-shampoo incident.

It has another unexpected benefit when she and Jonny go back to her condo (her new, shiny, fancy condo that she owns herself) and he pushes her up against the door and practically eats her face.

“What, you don’t want me getting with Sharpy?” she asks happily as he slides to his knees and undoes her jeans. “Are you sure? Because I bet he’d show me a good— _oh_. God. Yeah, just like that.”

After that there’s not a lot of talking for a while, until they’re lying sweaty and limp on her bed and Jonny says, “Um. Sorry about that.”

His cheeks are red. It’s totally adorable. “Yeah, that really sucked when you went down on me in the front hall, hated that.”

“No, I just—” He bites his lip. “I shouldn’t have let it get to me.”

“No, you’ve got sharing issues, I get it,” she says, and he gets all stormy faced and says, “I do _not_ have sharing issues,” and then he eats her out again and it’s all good.

All good, that is, except for the thing where she can’t touch him in public. It doesn’t matter so much when it’s a game or a team event or whatever—not like she’d be making out with Jonny at one of those anyway—but it’s pretty shitty when they’re out with the team and she can’t even lean her head against his shoulder in case someone takes a picture.

“And I can’t even pick up anyone else, because of stupid you,” she says in a club in New York, poking Jonny in his bicep. His stupid, stupidly awesome bicep that she should totally not wrap her hand around in public except oh oops.

Jonny peels her hand off his bicep, because he’s the responsible one and also he passed up on the shots Burs was passing around. “Like you’d pick up anyone anyway.”

“I could.” She’s leaning against the wall by the bar, Jonny looming over her, and the six inches between them are driving her crazy. “Could go get a guy. Give you that threesome you’ve always wanted.”

Jonny’s face, predictably, goes wide-eyed-crazy, and Pat grins. Maybe he’ll get rid of those six inches of space now. Except—she’s not supposed to want that, is she?

But Jonny, unexpectedly, says, “Maybe we should,” and Pat’s eyes just about bug out of her head. She’s been hoping for this for months, trying not to pressure him, but he just said— “Maybe I should go pick up a girl,” he says.

Pat wrinkles her nose. “Ew.”

Jonny rolls his eyes. “You are so homophobic.”

“Am not.” She plucks at his shirt to keep him near. She just said she wanted to watch him with a guy, didn’t she?

“Any time anyone hints about you and a girl—”

“Just because I’m a girl doesn’t mean I’m default bi or something,” she says. “I just…don’t get what the appeal is.”

“Oh, you don’t, do you?” Jonny says, and his voice has gone all dark and deep. He leans in again, breath skating over her ear. “You don’t get how someone could want a girl?”

“Not—really,” she says, trying not to squeak.

“You don’t get why someone might love to get their hands on a nice pair of breasts,” he says, and he’s really close now, his hand brushing her hip, his body a line of heat an inch away all along her front. “Cup them, feel the weight in their palms, run their fingers over the nipples until they’re hard and aching.”

“Um,” she says. Her breath is coming kind of fast. “No.”

“You don’t see the appeal of a nice, soft, wet pussy,” he says. The words are buzzing against her ear. “Why I might want to lick into it. Feel it getting slicker under my tongue. Hear the little high-pitched cries, feel her trembling as she gets closer, and closer, and closer, until I—”

Pat’s chest is heaving now. Her thighs are clenching, rhythmic.

“—feel her explode on my tongue,” Jonny says, and Pat lets out a fucking whimper.

Fuck. Her whole body is strung tight now, ready to—

“Yeah, I thought maybe you’d see the appeal,” Jonny says. He’s not as cool as he sounds, though: his lips are parted, lips shiny where he’s licked them, and his eyes are trained on Pat’s mouth.

She swallows. “I don’t know,” she says. “You make a good case, but I can also see the appeal of a nice, long, hard— _cock_.”

Jonny’s eyes widen a little, dart up to hers.

“Yeah,” she says, rolling her hips so they brush his for just a second. “It’s nice to start by just touching a guy, you know? Run my hands all over him, skate my fingers over his chest and his belly. Get him straining against his shorts. Maybe get my mouth involved—lick up his neck, to that spot behind his ear—”

Jonny lets out a shuddering breath. His eyes have fallen closed.

“I bet he’d be really hard then,” she says, lowering her voice. She can feel herself grinning. “I like being able to see how much he really wants it. His big, fat, cock, leaking at the tip, twitching whenever I hit a really good spot. Aching for my touch. But I wouldn’t touch him there, even though I’d want to. I’d keep teasing him, licking at his nipples—working him up until I was so wet I couldn’t stand it any longer, and then I’d—”

Jonny slams his hands into her shoulders, the best kind of body check, and stands there panting, his head hanging down, while shivers run over Pat’s skin. “This place has a one-stall bathroom, right?” he asks.

Two minutes later they’re fumbling with the lock on the door, and Jonny’s slamming Pat against the wall. The bulge of his cock hits her just right, and for a minute they grind just like that, her hands on his ass and his cock pushing against her clit in these bright pulses while they gasp into each other’s mouths. Then he’s getting her pants down, and her underpants, and feeling her slippery and wet, and when she gets her hand around his cock he groans and trembles and kisses her until she aches from wanting it. Then finally—he’s finally pushing in, hoisting her up a little against the wall, and god _damn_ she loves dating a hockey player.

It’s so good, the slide of him inside of her. His open mouth is hot and damp against her cheek, his eyelashes fluttering and his hands clenching on her thighs and his cock taking the top of her head off, there—there—there. She holds on with one hand around his neck and gets the other on her clit, rubbing in time with his thrusts, and they’re both shaking, and someone’s banging on the door but she doesn’t care, she doesn’t care about anything except Jonny inside her and around her and falling apart—falling—

“Fuck, I love you,” he gasps out when they’re both tipped against the wall, boneless, and his kisses are warm and still hungry and make her knees wobble and she wants them so, so much.

The guy outside the bathroom stares when they stumble out a couple of minutes later. Pat doesn’t know if it’s because they’re sweaty and sex-dazed, or if it’s because he recognizes them—and, if it’s the second thing, whether he’s going to tell the internet about it. Even if it’s the worst-case scenario, she can’t quite find it within herself to care all that much.

Some things are just worth it.


End file.
